


The Hunter`s Dream

by Marcus_Vici



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Dark Souls (Video Games), No Fandom
Genre: Action, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, And he dies in the process, Blood and Violence, Dark Character, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, Metaphors, Minor Character Death, Not a fanfiction though, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, The character tries to regain his soul, This is heavily inspired by Dark Souls, Undead, Written for a Class, several times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 02:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18929614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marcus_Vici/pseuds/Marcus_Vici
Summary: In which an undead warrior tries to escape his own eternal Hell.





	The Hunter`s Dream

“I can see myself! I can see myself!”

He looked down at the narcissus flower, which was leaning its little petals against his leg. White and with a bit of yellow in its center, the flower would be very much like the others in this garden, if not for its pitiful state. Muttering the same phrase again and again, the narcissus didn`t seem to notice him, leaning on only because he came up to be close enough.

He took a step back. The narcissus fell on the ground, its stalk no longer able to maintain it stable. The flower, however, didn`t react to this either; it just lifted some of its petals and continued muttering.

“I am Narcissus. I can see myself! I can see myself…”

He turned away from the flower and resumed his steady walk through the garden.

He didn`t have a name.

The garden continued endlessly, with narrow footpaths spreading in every direction, sometimes crossing over or merging one into another. It was never silent in here, with numerous flowers whispering to each other, sharing their stories. Even though the night never fell upon the garden, the sun on the sky was missing. Instead of a shining star up above there was only a grey mist, floating in the air like a giant cloud.

The flowers didn`t seem to care about the lack of sunlight: they grew as normal, from a single green sprout in the ground to a beautiful mature form, and died not long after that. The cycle repeated itself countless times, with new plants constantly replacing others. The only thing never repeated were their stories, so many of them that it was impossible to neither comprehend nor remember even the smallest part. These stories were the only reason why the man in the garden still kept going.

When he passed a bed of red asters, however, he suddenly stopped and looked at carelessly twittering flowers with narrow eyes. 

“It was dark, so dark and scary! A baleful, filthy soul of his, with an empty hole in place of a warm heart. Being torn apart by hunger so abysmal that it could never been fulfilled. What a shame! What a shame!”

A metal noise put an end to their conversation, making the flowers stand still from fear. The man slowly twisted his wrist and took hold of a long chain attached to the bracelet on his arm. A fast, almost effortless move – and a heavy spiky ball on the other end of the chain flew in the air, wiping out the whole of asters. The metal star returned to its owner and made a smooth vertical circle by inertia before stopping. The chain was once again coiled around the bracelet for the ball not to touch the ground. The man looked at the greenish-red mess of leaves and pedals for the last time and continued walking down the footpath.

He didn`t have a voice.

A still rustle of murmuring flowers was floating in the air. It seemed that the sole goal of plants in this garden was to tell a story and then die in peace; they had no worries about the outside world, they didn`t even care about the flowers on the other side of the road. Ever since they grew mature they never stopped talking, not until they ended their stories. Given the lack of nighttime, the garden actually never slept, so constant in its nature that it made time here meaningless.

The lonely wanderer was walking forward for hours, days, weeks, or maybe even months. He has long forgotten how it is to feel tired or thirsty. Even if he tried, he could not remember feeling anything at all. His mind was blank, wry and restless.

He was walking along an old brick wall – one of the many – when something in the flowers` endless whisper caught his attention. He stopped and turned to the wall, looking at a bunch of purple campanulas which had grown through its nicks. 

“In the world of the forgotten there is a high tower, at the top of the tower is a silver bell. No one can reach it, so no one can ring it. The bell swings from wind back and forth, light but heavy, and does not produce a single sound. How can one end the silence?”

Silence. 

He craved for it. 

He took a step towards the campanulas, then the second. Slowly extended his loose arm in their direction. Gently touched the flower which was talking, as if asking it to continue.  
“How can one end the silence?’ whispered campanula, its petals trembling. “The silver bell will never sing its song, and the lost souls will never be revived. The dark will come, the light will fade,” it paused, as if heaving a sigh. “Could the door lead the one to Fate?”

With its last word the flower leaned backwards and escaped his cold touch. He noticed then that the other campanulas seemed to disappear, with only green leaves still peeping from the clefts. Stepping aside, he followed it with his gaze as the last flower pulled itself into the wall, soon leaving him alone. 

He was looking at the cracked brown bricks for a long moment before turning away. He didn`t come far, however, as the wall behind him started to shake. Instantly turning back, he saw how the grey mist which was always floating in the garden started to condense in proximity to the wall. The stream of air was haphazardly moving in every direction, but gradually sticking closer and closer to the bricks. Finally, it stabilized itself, slowly floating up and down the new emerged arc.

So here is the door.

He clenched his fists, feeling the metal chain ripping off bits of skin on his left palm. First drops of blood fell on the ground, but he didn`t even notice. 

His eyes soaked in the image of the airy veil, and his mind became groggy. He stepped towards it, fairly unsure, but then quickly managed the distance and entered the grayish cloud inside the arc.

It wasn`t warm, but it wasn`t cold either. The feeling of it washing over him returned his mind to calmness almost instantly. He breathed in a slightly more humid air and stepped out of the mist.

It seemed that the door had brought him into a forest. Tall pine trees were standing at each side, surrounding him and the now empty arc, which looked like a piece of ancient ruins. He raised his head up to see the no longer lifeless sky; bright lights of a yellow sun made his dead heart skip a beat. 

He went ahead into the forest, immensely enjoying the crunch of sticks under his feet. The smell of ozonized air was so different from the garden`s sweet flowery odor that for the first time in what seemed like eternity he felt that he really is alive. This feeling was magnificent.

It was not that far away from the arc when he heard a fiddle tune. He immediately walked towards the beautiful sound, not bothered to think even for a second. The source of the tune came out to be much farther away than he expected though. When he finally got there, he stopped at the distance and hid behind a wide pine tree. The tune was played by a young man, and he hadn`t seen other people in so long that he couldn`t even remember what their voices sounded like, so he thought that it would be better to conceal himself, at least for now.

He was watching the man playing a song when he realized that he wasn`t the only one attracted by the melody. A pair of animals, one red and one white, appeared in front of the minstrel. Shortly after that came the third, which was much larger than the other two and had a smoky gray fur. 

He took a stronger hold of the chain at his left arm and attentively followed the last creature with his eyes. That one almost radiated danger.

“You`ve tricked us, minstrel! Now it`s your turn to pay for what you`ve done,” growled the creature. It was a wolf, he remembered.

The minstrel didn`t answer and simply continued to play his fiddle. The wolf roared from anger and bended down on his paws, his muscles visibly tighten up. Following the underlined order in the song, the man behind the pine tree almost persuaded himself to stop hiding and come in front of the minstrel, protecting him with his own body. This, however, didn`t happen - someone stepped in first. 

The stranger was tall and wide in his shoulders, with short hair and a brown beard. He raised his hand with an axe in it and stood into a defensive position. His gaze was unfocused, revealing that he indeed was under the spell. The animals looked fairly threatened by his emergence and didn`t try to challenge him. 

“You bastard! Too afraid to deal with us yourself, aren`t you?” the wolf finally spoke. The other animals behind him took a few steps back, clearly not that much braver than the minstrel. 

“None of you were worth to be my true companion. I didn`t have another choice,” came the answer. The melody stopped, but the man with an axe didn`t change his position and was still protecting the minstrel.

“Oh, what a liar you are!” snarled the wolf with a wry face. He didn`t add anything more though, and soon retreated from the place as well as his companions. 

The man who was concealing himself up to this point quickly looked at the minstrel and his defender. The two were chatting about something, which he did not understand, and seemed rather happy. He turned his gaze away from them and silently moved out from his haven and deeper into the woods. He recalled the direction in which the wolf disappeared and followed it.

As he was running through the forest, he wondered how old this place actually is. With numerous layers of dead leaves under his feet and with the sight of giant trees drowning in the sky, he was truly mesmerized. The garden was nothing compared to it.

Cautious, he stopped when he sensed that his prey is finally near him. The wolf seemed in turn to stumble upon his own meal. 

Thoroughly crawled behind a bush of wild roses, he saw the creature standing in front of a little girl and talking to her in the low voice which was full of barely concealed anger and lust. 

Disgusting...

He listened to their talk, prepared to come right away had the girl be threatened. But she wasn`t. The wolf, once he heard the story about a sick old grandma who lived alone in the woods, clearly decided to postpone his dinner so that he could have two meals instead of one. 

The creature tricked the girl and rushed towards the house. The man took the last look at the seemingly careless human child and left the place as well.

The house actually wasn`t that far away. Some heavily entangled trees and vines, however, made the man to keep back a little, so he reached the house a few minutes later than the wolf. He briefly examined the door and found four thin marks of the creature`s claws, right below the metal lock. Probably, the old lady refused to open the door, so the wolf opened it by force. Considering the silence from the inside the house, it didn`t end well for the grandma.

Not willing to follow her example, the man silently went around the house in search for another entry. Luckily, he found it, and it wasn`t even locked, so he entered the house, careful not to make any noise. He went from one empty room to the other, until he found the one with the front door. It wasn`t empty, but instead of the old woman resting in her bed there was only the wolf. The creature was dressed in grandma`s clothes, with nothing covering thick gray fur on his face and hands. The wolf looked as if he was asleep.

The man doubted it though. The more glad he was that his body didn`t have any smell for the animal to sense it. All he needed was just to stay silent.

He took the first few steps into the room, careful to avoid the places where he could be seen by the wolf. Slowly, he approached the resting creature and stopped right behind the headboard. 

He took the spiky metal ball which he was holding in his left hand into the right one. The chain between it and the bracelet clang a little, but the wolf on the bed didn`t seem to notice. Not pretending?..

Although his lungs didn`t actually need oxygen, he made a silent breath before lowering his arms and quickly putting the chain around the neck of his prey. When the wolf opened his eyes and tried to put the chain away, the hunter only took a stronger hold of it, tightly blocking trachea and the throat. The spiky ball fell from his hand, ripping off bits of fur on its way down and adding even more weight. The chain, never mind the wolf`s efforts at loosening it, was tightly pressed against the neck, and the hunter didn`t seem to give it up. He didn`t want to let this filthy creature to harm anyone ever again.

What happened next though would have become a big surprise for the hunter had he felt any real feelings at all.

The wolf, with his muzzle growing red under the fur, freed one of his paws and lowered it, taking something from a pocket on grandma`s clothes. A few seconds later a long rusty bolt was stuck right between the man`s ribs. Dark, almost black blood started to drip on the bed and on the floor, quickly turning everything into a dirty mess. 

This, however, didn`t loosen the chain in any way. Soon enough the wolf stopped breathing. The hunter waited for a bit longer, and when nothing happened, he reeled the chain back on the bracelet and allowed the creature`s head, all covered in blood, to fall. He then kneeled down on the floor himself.

The bolt in his chest wasn`t making him feel pain or anything, but he suddenly realized that he could not let the breath in even if he tried. The fear that this thought evoked was so unreasonably overwhelming that it made him raise his right hand and grip the rough bit of clothes right above his bleeding heart. His body twitched, sending signals right into the brain. 

He was scared.

The dark ink of his blood was spilled everywhere around him. It didn`t smell iron and didn`t seem to start drying out. His blood wasn`t red and full of life the same way the wolf`s was; just a lifeless liquid mess. 

Was it always this way? He could not remember.

He raised his eyes away from the floor and up to the ceiling, trying to soak in its white comfort and calm himself down. He wasn`t used to feelings, and this sudden fear didn`t  
make good for him. It was horrible. 

With his body still trembling, he slowly turned his head towards the front door, now open, and met the eyes of the little girl. She was standing there; a small woven basket fell from her hand and smeared the floor with yellow butter. Her cheeks were wet from tears, and she took a few steps away from him. She, too, was afraid, but her fear was different. After all, she was alive.

The child ran away, and the hunter felt his mind going blurry. His body got weak, and he collapsed on the floor, feeling the blood sticking to his clothes. Soon he closed his eyes and tried to think if he did everything right. He remembered the look which the little girl gave him. He did what was necessary, didn`t he?

For a brief moment his body became light and senseless. Then he suddenly realized that there is no bolt in his chest and that his clothes are no longer wet and sticky. He opened his eyes, and instead of the white ceiling there was only a clear blue sky. 

He sat down and looked around himself. 

The grandma`s house has vanished. Everywhere he could see was just a valley of wild grasses, for the exception of the genuinely old building right in front of him. It looked like a castle, or maybe a cathedral, and was tall and full of colored glass. Its outer walls were decorated with low reliefs, and the passed time left its marks on them with numerous cracks and long green vines. 

There were giant wooden doors that led inside the building. As there was no other alternative, he stood up and approached them. There was a thick metal locker, but it wasn`t closed, so he just pushed the doors in and let them open. A quiet wooden rustle filled the space, and the sun lights came in from the outside to reveal the myriad pieces of floating dust.

The cathedral wasn`t empty; there were two people right opposite the entrance. The hunter, as calm as ever, went towards them, up a stone ladder. Soon he could see that the two were a young woman sitting on what seemed like a throne and a short humpy man who was standing behind her left shoulder. They were looking at him in return, and no interest or anger could be read from their faces.

“Who are you, stranger?” asked the woman, her voice emotionally blank but loud enough to return as an echo. 

He didn`t answer. 

“Oh, I see,” she made a short nod. “One more of those wandering souls, aren`t you? There`s been too many of your kind recently. Not a good sign.”

She stood from her throne in one smooth move and gracefully stepped in front of him. He looked down at her, unsure of what reaction she expects from him. To veer away? There was no reason for him to do that.

The woman was dressed in fine clothes and had a small silver tiara in her long brown hair. She had cold gray eyes and pale thin lips. As much as he could say, she was beautiful. He didn`t feel anything towards her though, only a bit of confusion as to why she is examining his face with such intensity. There was nothing interesting for her to look at him so attentively.

Finally, she lowered her gaze and took a step back. For some unknown reason, all of her previous confidence and calmness have disappeared. Her face became almost white, and a drop of bright red blood smeared the corner of her lips when she bit them too hard. She clearly tried to remain calm, but it was obvious from the short look which she gave him that she couldn`t. The woman exhaled heavily and took a few more steps back.

“Tom,” she said in a husky voice. “Tom, please.”

Although he didn`t know his name, he was sure that it isn`t “Tom”. And he was right - Tom was the man standing right behind the metal throne.

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“Tom, please, leave us alone,” she said now with a much greater confidence than before, though this seemed far from natural. She clenched her hands into fists for a brief moment and looked at her servant, as if not afraid to turn her back to him. 

“But, your Majesty…” Tom responded with a deep bow. “With all respect, I don`t trust this person even a little. I am here to serve you and to protect you, I cannot possibly leave you alone.”

“I… I`ll be alright, Tom,” she stuttered a little, her body visibly trembling. “Please, just for a few minutes.”

The hunter suddenly came up with the thought that this is not the way how a mistress should talk with her servant. How close these two in front of him really are?..

Tom didn`t seem persuaded by her words. Bended down due to his disease, he looked very short and the opposite of strong, but right now something in his figure changed. Muscles flexed under his clothes, and he made a step forward. Tilted to the side and took a pair of long thin swords, which were leaning against the back of the throne. Started approaching his princess at the center of the hall, his steps oddly light and silent. 

“I sincerely apologize, your Majesty, but I could not follow this order.”

The woman didn`t respond to that. She lowered her head, hiding her eyes, and returned to the throne, briefly touching Tom`s shoulder on her way back. She got to the same position she had before the hunter arrived, for the exception that right now there was no one behind her.

“If that`s your wish, then let it be,” she said blankly. Her external calmness returned, and only the gaze with which she was following every move of the two men indicated that in reality she was far from calm.

“Thank you.”

Tom, small and clumsy in comparison, stopped in front of the hunter. His swords were keen and neat, and he knew how to use them. He wasn`t scared by the tall and wiry figure of his opponent, by the dark rags of clothes and the ashen-gray color of skin. A massive metal star, which was hanging down the left arm of the hunter, though, was quite troublesome as he`s never tried himself against one of those before. Same were the glowing yellow eyes of the man.

An undead. One of the dark wandering souls. A creature which could not die, but also could not truly live. 

What it`s like to exist in a burning Hell? 

Tom couldn`t tell, so he just threw this thought away from his mind. Slowly breathed out, gaining more concentration, and relaxed his hands enough to move the swords at any moment. He`ll do what needs to be done. 

The hunter looked strangely confused. Didn`t expect anyone to challenge him? Who knows what lurks inside this dismal mind.

Frowning at a seemingly relaxed posture of his opponent, Tom decided to clear the things out:

“I would not allow you to threaten the princess in any way. You`re a stranger here, an unwelcomed one. If you don`t want me to make you into trouble, I`d ask you to leave the place. Immediately.”

The hunter tilted his head to the side as if considering the offer. Closed his unnaturally bright eyes for a few seconds. Once he opened them again, he looked at Tom with an unreadable expression on his ashen face and unreeled the chain on his left arm. The spiky ball at the other end touched the floor with a metal noise. The echo of the clink lasted for a few long moments, and when it had finished, Tom started his attack.

The swords flew in the air, trying to bite the skin under dark cloth. When their goal sprang away, Tom swiftly ceased the distance, careful not to let the undead to get out of his reach. Otherwise, there`d be very little chance for him to counteract.

His opponent wasn`t as fast as him, and it was clear that he had much less experience than Tom, but this didn`t seem to make any real advantage. The way this undead creature moved was different from anything Tom had ever seen: he didn`t look at all concerned with the swords approaching him, always escaping the threat at the last moment. His body shifted slowly, but precisely, with no sign of even a minor mistake. And he didn`t even use the Morgenstern yet.

When the star finally flew in the air, it was Tom`s turn to veer away. Large and heavy, the spiky ball was created for a slaughter. To crush bones and grind a living flesh. It was a relatively simple weapon, but dreadful in its effectiveness. And its owner used it with such an ease that it made Tom almost dance around him in efforts to escape the star.  
After a few minutes of this crazy rhythm Tom became used to the fighting manner of his opponent, at least to some extent. Now he could try to stop it.

He stood into a stable position, with one sword up and the other down. When the star once again flew towards him, Tom was prepared. He hit the chain at the right place, and the ball changed its direction, coiling up around the sword. Knowing that he has little time, Tom used all his speed to cease the distance between him and his rival. With one of his swords locked by the chain, he used the other one and dropped it on the rival`s right shoulder. The blade came through it as if it was made out of butter.

The severed arm hit the floor, and the hunter gave it a brief disgruntled look. His dirty blood dewed the servant`s clothes and swords, making the man to hesitate for a moment. With calm realization growing in his head, the hunter used his chance and forcibly pulled the chain. The sword around which the ball was hanging twisted in the man`s grip and then fell on the floor with a loud noise. One more pull, and the chain let the sword lie on its own.

The servant, Tom, raised his other sword to protect himself, but he didn`t make it in the right time. His reaction was too slow when compared to the emotionless accuracy of an undead mind. 

The other sword joined its counterpart on the floor, and the two drowned in a pool of dark red, warm blood. Soon Tom kneeled in it too, and a cry of despair filled the hall. The hunter moved away from the body of his past rival and turned his head towards the princess, who was looking at her servant with anguish and disbelief. She stood up from her throne, but didn`t run to the body. Too horrified of what this brave man has turned into?

The hunter frowned. He hadn`t planned it to end this way. He didn`t want to harm anyone in the first place, but he couldn`t follow the order and leave either. He had nowhere else to go.

The star turned red from slowly drying blood, and for some reason its weight felt heavier now than before. When the hunter gave the last look to the broken figure at his feet, it made his heart tighten. He clenched his fingers around the chain and quickly turned away. 

He didn`t know why, but he could not bear the sight of it for any longer.

When he looked back at the princess, he was surprised by her steady posture and blank face, so different from the ones he`d seen a few moments ago. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion. It was strange and probably irrational, but these rapid changes in her behavior made him fairly concerned.

“You,” she said in a low voice. “I remember you.”

The hunter felt his heart stop for a second. He didn`t know her.

“So proud of yourself, aren`t you?” her attentive gaze was sharp and cold. “It`s so easy to kill, but in your hands it always looked like a piece of art The grand master, a flawless weapon. Too outstanding to indulge feeble humans around you,” she curved her lips in disdain. “I thought something might have changed. It seems that I was too naïve.”

Not willing to just stand there and listen, the hunter moved towards the princess. His steps were slow; the metal chain had already returned to its place on the bracelet, and the star became hidden inside the hold of his remaining hand. If not for the missing limb and the blood all over his clothes, he might have been much less menacing, but he wasn`t. He shouldn`t have been surprised when the princess stepped away from him and up on a little platform behind the throne.

“N-no… Stay there! Don`t touch me!”

He obediently stopped. He didn`t want to harm her.

The princess, however, didn`t look at all relieved. The shiver returned to her body, and she took a few more steps back. 

Behind her was a tall and wide window made of colored glass; it depicted some well-known religious scene. The rays of sun were coming through it, skewed by the glass, and made the princess` dress blue and green. This turned her whole image into a more vivid one: painted by natural colors and lighted by the sun, she looked younger than before. She was no longer the blank gray woman sitting on the throne – she looked truly alive.

If not for the wretched expression on her face, she could have seemed calm and happy.

The feeling of unrest grew inside the hunter, and for the first time in what seemed like eternity he truly regretted that he could not speak. He wanted to say something, to calm the princess down and to stop her from whatever she was about to make. The thought was rather irrational, given that he`s just mercilessly killed her servant; he had no reason to empathize the woman, he himself wasn`t a human after all.

He froze. If there is nothing humane in him, why did he chase the wolf before? He wanted to protect the minstrel because of the spell, but there was no reason for him to try and save the child.

He shook his head, and the princess looked at him with what seemed like astonishment. It didn`t last long though, and soon enough her face became as blank as before, with only eyes showing the chaos inside her heart.

“What happened to you?” she suddenly mused. “I honestly could not imagine, and I`m not sure if I even want to.”

She moved her shoulders slightly and took one more step back. The hunter, as if pulled by a magnet, took a step forward. He remembered the order, and it was the only reason why he stopped there and didn`t come closer.

“The life of a human being is too short,” said the princess and made a quick look at the body lying on the floor. “Would the afterlife last for longer, then?”

A step back, and one more, and more; the princess leaned against the colored glass and swiftly opened the tall window. The hunter hurried towards her, but he was too late. The princess fell out of the window; her pale lips stretched in a small crooked smile.

When the hunter stopped at the window frame, he could see that there was nothing at this side of the cathedral, only a thick mist. A few seconds later this mist flew up and into the cathedral, hiding everything inside under a milky white veil. The hunter closed his eyes, and when he opened them next time, there was no trace of either the mist or the cathedral.

He was standing somewhere in the dark. And he wasn`t alone in here.

“Hi, I`m Nathan,” whispered a little boy right next to him. “Where did you come from? I know you weren`t there before.”

The hunter looked down at the child and sighed without even noticing it. What had he done to deserve such an afterlife? 

He kneeled to be the same height as Nathan and tried to seem as harmless as possible. His previously severed arm returned to him, so he raised it to his mouth and shook his head.

“You cannot speak?” asked the child, his face full of pity. “But why?”

The man shrugged. He knew the answer, but there was no way for him to explain it.

Suddenly, there came a noise from the outside of the dark corner where the two were lurking. Nathan shuddered and instinctively hid behind the older man. 

“It`s the Sandman. He wants to kill my father,” the boy whispered him into ear. “Please, save him. You look strong, you could beat the Sandman.”

The hunter looked the boy directly in the eyes. There was no fear in them, only hope. Nathan trusted him, the stranger whom he knew only for a couple of minutes.  
He sighed once again before gently guiding the child deeper into the corner and showing him to stay silent. The boy nodded and sat there, completely hidden in the dark. The hunter stood up and looked out at the center of the room where two men were talking. He didn`t listen to their words, just picked which one of them is Nathan`s father. That was relatively easy given the sorrowful face of the man.

The Sandman, on the other hand, looked even more horrible than the hunter himself. His whole body was awfully twisted; the creature was moving abruptly and almost mechanically. Its eyes were missing, and the cavities were filled with sand. It was uncanny to even look at him, and the hunter wondered how such a monstrosity managed to enter the house.

He waited until the boy`s father went away to take something from a table, and then threw the Morgenstern in the air. Carefully maneuvered its trajectory for the chain to entangle the Sandman`s legs. Hurried towards the monster and griped his hands, moving them behind the back. Another quick move – and the Sandman fell into the fire of a giant hearth in front of him. A loud scream of the monster echoed in the room.

The hunter, satisfied with the sight of his burning prey, was thinking to take the chain back when instead someone pulled it from the other end. Apparently, the Sandman was still alive and very angry. 

The pull was so strong that it was almost impossible to resist, so a second later the man joined the monster in the hearth. Although he was still unable to feel pain, the hunter could sense his clothes turning to ash and his skin crawling down the muscles. Far from pleasant, honestly. 

Well, at least he was sure that this damned Sandman is agonizing near him.

The torrid flames around the two of them grew higher and for some reason turned from bright orange to light-blue. The fire hid everything from the sight, including the hearth itself. After a few long moments spent in the blue burning cloud, the hunter found himself once again lying on the grass. Of course, without the Sandman.

He raised his head and felt relief when he saw no trace of the cathedral. There was no mist either – he was sure that if he comes close enough he even will be able to see the city  
far below. 

The blue fire had transported him on the top of a mountain.

A sudden voice behind him made the hunter sit immediately and turn his head towards it.

“E-eh, hello there,” said an old man. His face was heavily wrinkled and he had a wide toothless smile. ‘You`ve come just on time! See, the Sun (let his life be long and blissful!) was knocked off by this fool, Coyote, so now he is annoyed enough to ride the Black Wind Horse in the heavens. Our people haven`t seen rain in a while; that truly is a miracle!”

The pale eyes of the old man were scintillating madness. He looked rather harmless for the hunter to worry about him though.

The man`s words came true when the gray smoke of clouds thoroughly covered the serene sky up above. It didn`t take long for them to hide the rays of sun out of view. The clouds were bumping into each other from time to time, the lightning illuminating everything with a flash of white and the thunder rumbling all over the place. 

How did the old man say? That`s Coyote chased by the Sun?

The hunter raised his head to meet the rain that`s started to fall. Rare and petty at first, the droplets soon became larger, and were hitting the ground as if from a giant gun. He and the other man became totally drenched in less than a minute.

“See? The Sun is gracious today – that`s a really nice rain up here!” said the old man with visible excitement. He was also sitting on the grass, his back leaning against a large stone. His gray hair were messy with dirt and water, but he didn`t seem to care.

With the rain dripping down his face, the hunter was inclined to admit that the man is right. It was actually very nice.

He stood up, the metal star on the chain raised from the ground as well. Everything, as always, seemed to return back to normal: no traces of blood, missing limbs, or burns on his skin. As if nothing really happened, and he was just having a long and exhausting dream.

The sky was truly beautiful. Dark and in a constant move, it was full of pristine life. Strikes of lightning were bright as the sun itself, so at one point the hunter simply closed his eyes. He was breathing in the fresh air, which smelled ozone, listening to the quiet murmur of rain, feeling his wet skin turning cold from wind – and it seemed that his heart was beating faster with each bang of thunder.

He thought about the princess. Did she really know him?

The rain on his body and clothes felt like blood. Less dense and sticky, not warm at all, but still too familiar.

He choked the wolf and he did not regret it. The brave man who bothered to challenge him could have survived, if only the wound had been smaller, made with lesser speed – but he didn`t. And then the princess killed herself. Why?

The hunter opened his eyes and looked back at the old man who was sitting in the same position as before. Looked at the gentle smile on his face. The man, even though he was probably cold and tired from climbing up so high, seemed genuinely happy.

“Still unsure, aren`t you?” asked the old man and squinted with joy in his pale eyes. “Poor boy. It`s alright, don`t be scared,” he smiled more widely now, his wrinkled hands gripping bits of cloth on his legs. “After all, it`s all about the journey, isn`t it?”

The hunter was watching the man for a few more seconds before turning away completely and heading towards the edge of the cliff. The city below, even with the sun hidden behind the clouds, still seemed colorful: white walls turned gray from water, and the clean roofs of the houses were glowing red. Some people were walking down the streets with small umbrellas made of cane; they seemed delightful of the rain the same way the old man did. For them it truly was a miracle.

A sudden thought came to his mind: had he himself become a miracle to anyone? He saved the girl from the wolf, but didn`t save her grandmother – she would likely blame him for that. Hate him. And to some extent, she would be right.

What about Nathan then?

The memory of a sincere trust that the child had shown to him made his heart warm. Nathan wouldn`t blame him – he would be grateful. A bit worried probably, given that the boy had seen him falling into the fire, but definitely not resentful. Nathan would remember him as the savior of his father; he would grow up and tell his kids that sometimes the wandering souls are actually not that dark.

The hunter heaved a sigh and slightly raised the corners of his lips. His body felt weightless. Taking a stronger hold of the chain, he stepped into the abyss with no hesitation left.

The fall seemed endless. The city below the mountain disappeared rather early and was soon replaced by all too familiar gray mist. It looked like the cloudy sky from above had doubled on the ground, creating an enormous bubble of humid air. The hunter was falling through it for almost an eternity, but for some reason he didn`t really care. He felt calm in here, so much that he didn`t even mind to stay here forever.

At one point though he realized that he is no longer falling. There was solid ground under his feet, however, he couldn`t see it just yet. The mist remained around him, and suddenly the hunter realized that he knows what he is expected to do.

He walked ahead, and after some threshold the mist didn`t follow him, lagging behind. A high tower made of white marble appeared in front of him, with numerous others on the background. When he looked back, he saw an ancient arc, its entry hidden in a smoky veil. On the side of it were green leaves and a few purple petals.

The hunter went into the tower and up the stairs until he reached the spacious room with a large silver bell. He was alone in here. The glass was missing in the windows, so the fresh air from the outside was going back and forth inside the room. For some reason though, the wind didn`t move the bell to even the slightest bit, leaving everything in silence.  
The bell itself looked old and was covered with a thick layer of dust, as if the flow of air was unable to touch it. It was well-made and had an extensive decoration pattern, too complex to understand it from the first glance. Whoever brought it here probably knew what he was doing, but for the hunter it was too overwhelming to comprehend. So he just gave up trying and simply did what he felt was necessary.

He extended his arm and touched the metal side – it felt strangely warm. Gently stroked it with one hand, removing the dust. Took a step back and pushed the bell forward.  
It rang. The sound wasn`t loud to his ears, but the hunter was sure that the ring had spread far beyond the tower where the bell was hanging. 

It was swinging back and forth as if it was not heavier than a feather. The bell was joyfully singing its song, and at some point the bracelet on the hunter`s arm has started to disappear. The star fell on the floor, its chain clinking in rhyme with the bell. The two slowly melted down as well and were dissolved into the white marble.

The hunter closed his eyes. A grayish mist flew into the room and soaked his soul in.

**Author's Note:**

> The tales used:  
> H. C. Andersen "The Snow Queen"  
> A. Afanasyev "The Princess Who Never Smiled"  
> Brothers Grimm "The Marvelous Minstrel"  
> E. T. A. Hoffmann "The Sandman"  
> C. Perault "Little Red Riding Hood"  
> One of the Apachi legends, "Coyote steals Sun`s tobacco"


End file.
